by Annie Murray
Anatoli reached for her hand, and they sat with their palms sweatily in each other’s.
‘Are you all right?’
Edie took a deep breath. ‘Terrified.’ She smiled nervously. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? But it’s been such a long time. I’m scared he’ll have changed so much that we shan’t have anything to say to each other.’
‘I don’t believe,’ Anatoli teased, ‘that I have ever known a time when you had nothing to say!’
His teasing exasperated her in her tense mood and he sensed her irritation.
‘Look—’ He squeezed her hand. ‘It will be all right. Really, my darling.’
‘I just feel . . .’ She sighed, trying to find a word to sum up her feelings of inadequacy, of fear in the face of all that David had found here. But it was fear of the unknown and she couldn’t put it into words.
The bus ground screeching to a halt, and abruptly everyone started getting up and trying to get out and there was a loud gabble of voices.
‘Well—’ Anatoli said, as if offering her something routine and everyday like a cup of tea. ‘Shall we go and find your son?’
David had told them he knew the times of the buses coming into Tiberias, and if all was going according to plan, he should be there somewhere, among the throng of people in the street.
Will I recognize him? Edie wondered, climbing down out of the bus. Her heart was beating painfully hard at the thought that she might soon see him, yet at the same time there was also a sense of unreality about it, as if her body had travelled on ahead and her mind still had to catch up. Was she really here, or would she soon wake up in her bed in Bournville?
Standing at the side of the road with their suitcase, they looked back and forth. Heat pressed down on them and the slight breeze just made her feel more damp. The bus took off again in a cloud of fumes. Two women, both middle-aged, stood beside them, arguing volubly about their bags. Motorcycles roared past on the road, one ridden by soldiers, a boy and girl, both in uniform, and Edie watched them go past, screwing up her eyes against the glare. The girl’s hair streamed out behind and she was laughing.
‘Perhaps we should find a spot in the shade,’ Anatoli suggested.
They were moving into the shade under the awning of a shop which had a pile of yellow melons outside, when they heard his voice.
‘Mom! Over here – Mom!’
Running towards them, dodging through the traffic, was a tall, deeply tanned, broad-shouldered man with a mop of curly brown hair. For a moment Edie couldn’t put together the familiar sound of his voice with the apparition she saw in front of her. She stood quite still as he ran over to them.
‘My goodness!’ she gasped. ‘Anatoli – it’s him. Oh Davey, look at you!’
Forgetting all her nervousness, she just flung her arms round him in her joy at seeing him, laughing, but with tears coming too. What a great big muscular man he was! In her arms he felt twice the size he’d been when she last saw him!
‘Hello, Mom.’ He sounded rather bashful, but he was grinning, and very pleased to see her.
Edie drew back and groped in her pocket for a hanky to wipe her eyes. ‘Oh I can’t believe how you’ve grown and filled out. Look at him, Anatoli! When he came he was a pale shrimp of a lad!’
‘Hello, David.’ Anatoli held out his hand.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you at last.’ Edie saw David examine Anatoli intently. ‘And congratulations to you both, again.’
He had brought one of the kibbutz cars to fetch them. Edie was further astonished. So he could drive now! And a man came up and asked him something she couldn’t understand, and David gave him fluent directions in Hebrew. She was so proud of him! He had learned and grown so much.
Edie sat beside him in the front of the car, with Anatoli behind. She watched David’s brown, muscular legs working the accelerator and clutch. He was wearing loose khaki shorts and sandals.
‘Gila was going to come with me,’ he said, backing the car to turn round. ‘Unfortunately she wasn’t feeling too well this morning, so she decided to rest and save her energy for later.’
‘How far on is she now?’ Edie asked hesitantly.
‘About three months. She’s been very well up until now – it’s a shame it happened today. Maybe she’s nervous because you’re coming!’
Not half as nervous as I am, Edie thought, wiping her moist hands on her hanky. It felt more humid here than it had in Tel Aviv. Sweat seemed to sit clammily on the skin. It was too bad about having to let her scar show in this heat. She had long ago taken off her cardigan. And it didn’t seem important any more.
She wanted to ask David everything at once. What have you said to Mrs Weissman, Gila’s mother? Do you get on with her? When are you going to get married? Where will Anatoli and I be staying? And above all, the thing David could not possibly answer – what will Gila think of me? But she stifled her questions and instead they commented on the view and David pointed things out.
‘That little building – you see the minaret back there – that’s the old mosque. Everyone has been here – Samaritans, Crusaders, Turks. And there was an earthquake in 1837, so a lot of it was lost.’
‘How far away is your kibbutz?’ Edie asked.
‘Oh, not far – three or four miles. It is one of the newer ones. Back that way—’ He pointed back south with his thumb. ‘At the bottom end of the lake, south of Kinneret, is Degania Aleph – that’s the oldest kibbutz in Israel, founded in 1909. Hamesh has barely been going for ten years, so it is still a little rough round the edges.’
They left the town, and to their right the water of the lake spread out in patches of deep blue and turquoise.
‘It’s very peaceful,’ she said. ‘And very beautiful.’
‘Yes,’ David said happily. ‘It’s wonderful. It’s very good for swimming and there are lovely fish.’
Edie looked dreamily out of the window while Anatoli asked more questions. She had known the two of them would get on.
‘How is your father?’ Anatoli said. Edie listened more attentively now.
‘Well—’ David sighed. ‘His health is never very strong. He depends on Annaliese for everything. It does worry me that she will find it too much to look after him one day. But he knows you’re coming.’
Within minutes they had arrived, driving through the gate and raising a swirl of dust on the unpaved track inside. Edie’s first impression was rather disappointing. Ahead of her rose a series of concrete buildings, square blocks, functional but with nothing attractive about them at all. In front of them was one lawn which had obviously been watered and tended to, and the other side, another which had been seeded and was struggling to survive in the heat. A jet of water squirted intermittently over it from a hosepipe. From somewhere, as she climbed out, she could hear children’s voices chanting something, perhaps a nursery rhyme.
‘Now—’ David lifted the cases from the back. ‘We have a small apartment where you can stay. Come with me – we’ll go and settle you in and get something to drink. That’s the first thing.’
He led them along the dry path past the communal dining-room to one of the blocks. Outside the door a young date palm was growing in the scuffed earth. They climbed two flights of bare concrete stairs and Edie’s head throbbed. She was longing for a drink of water and to be able to sit and recover with her eyes closed for a few minutes. The journey from home seemed to have gone on for ever.
But when David opened the door of the apartment, into a very simple living-room with a few pieces of plain, rather ugly furniture standing round it, there was someone sitting waiting for them on one of the wooden chairs. David greeted her in Hebrew, and slowly, somehow reluctantly, she stood up. Edie saw a slight, yet wiry-looking girl with long black hair, dressed in a dark blue sundress. She had deep brown eyes and striking black eyebrows, and Edie could see that she was beautiful, except that now the brows were pulled into a frown. David touched her shoulder, seeming worried, and speaking soothingly to her in Heb
rew, asking questions, and her face puckered for a moment. Edie could not read what was going on and thought she seemed angry. She felt herself tense up inside. This must be Gila, but what was going on? Had there been a row between them? David had not indicated anything might be wrong.
After he had spoken to her a bit more, David led her over to Edie.
‘Mom, Anatoli. This is Gila.’
She obviously had to force a smile on to her face and Edie caught a glimpse of little white teeth, and of the beauty that would be present when she looked happy. They shook hands.
‘Shalom – welcome,’ she said softly, adding in broken English. ‘I am pleased to meet you.’
Edie nodded and smiled, saying Shalom and that she was pleased too, but the pained, sad look did not lift from the girl’s face.
There was a further exchange in Hebrew, David looking quite concerned, and Gila said an abrupt goodbye and left the apartment.
‘Oh dear—’ David looked really upset.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Edie was convinced the problem had something to do with their visit. She felt upset herself.
‘There’s something wrong – with the baby. She’s been having pains since yesterday and now she says she’s started bleeding. Does that mean she’s going to lose it?’
‘Oh dear!’ Edie cried. ‘It might mean that – oh the poor girl, how terrible!’ She went to David and stroked his arm. ‘Look, love – you must go with her – don’t send her off on her own. Can she see a doctor?’
‘Yes – there’s one on the kibbutz . . .’ He looked stunned. ‘I’m sorry, Mom – and I wanted to make everything comfortable for you both. Look – I’ll put some water on to boil and you can make tea – and there’s melon and bread in there.’ He was about to go into the tiny kitchen but Anatoli stopped him.
‘We can make tea, David. Edith and I will be quite all right and we’ll have plenty of time together. Do go after her and make sure she’s all right.’
‘Yes – go on,’ Edie urged. ‘Quickly – go and catch her up!’
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can!’
And he was off. They heard his sandals slapping down the stairs.
Anatoli came and put his arms round Edie. ‘Not a very good start. Poor David.’
‘I know. Poor girl – no wonder she looked so grim. It does sound as if she’s losing the child. But oh, Anatoli, at least I’ve seen him at last! He looks so well and so grown up! And we’ve got two whole weeks ahead of us to spend with him!’
David appeared later in the evening, by which time Edie and Anatoli had had a drink and a nap and were ready to face life again.
‘How is she, love?’ Edie asked. She felt quite maternal towards Gila, even though she’d seen her only once.
David flung himself down on the hard, plastic-covered sofa beside Edie. ‘She’s got to rest for a day or two. The doctor says she’s miscarrying – it’s gone too far to prevent it. She’s in the best place – she’s gone to her mother’s.’ He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked up wearily at them. ‘She was upset when she first found out she was having a child. It changed all her plans. She would have had to interrupt her studies. She was angry. But now . . . we’d adjusted to the idea and she’s very sad.’
‘Of course she is,’ Anatoli said.
Edie laid her hand on David’s arm. ‘It’s a terrible thing. Please tell her how sorry we are and wish her a speedy recovery.’
David smiled wanly. ‘I will. It’s just such a pity it’s happened now as well. She’s usually so happy. And she was going to come with us to Haifa.’
They reassured him that they were perfectly happy to fit in with any plans and were there really to see him.
Later, as she and Anatoli went to bed after the evening meal, which that night they had in the apartment, Edie said, ‘It feels very strange, all this going on with the baby. I can hardly take it in that it was his child. Last time I saw him he was barely more than a schoolboy!’
Fifty-Four
For the next two days, David was expected to work, as he had asked for time off later especially to go with Edie and Anatoli to Haifa. So they had some hours to themselves until David’s leisure time. Gila was still recovering and David said she was quickly on the mend, though still feeling groggy. Edie was impressed by her toughness.
Kibbutz life in itself was an adventure. They took their meals in the communal dining-room and David showed them the hut where he and the others slept. Edie was amazed by these spartan living quarters and the fact that boys and girls were in there together.
They felt very lazy being on holiday while everyone else was hard at work. Instead of acting as volunteers, David had asked if they could pay for their board instead, and as they were rather exceptional visitors, the committee granted permission.
By the time they were due to travel to Haifa, Gila was up and insisting she felt well enough to come. They all got up at four thirty in the morning and by five, David and Gila were knocking on the door of the little apartment.
‘Oh – d’you think you’re strong enough, love?’ Edie said to Gila, forgetting she could barely understand any English. She still felt rather nervous of the girl. It would be so much easier if they had more than a few words of the same language in common!
But Gila obviously made sense of what she said, and nodded, holding out her hand. ‘Shalom, shalom.’ Edie smiled, pulled her close and kissed her cheek.
‘Tell her how sorry we are,’ Edie said, stroking Gila’s hand, wanting to give comfort. The whole event had brought them all closer. David translated and Gila attempted a wan smile and said, ‘Yes. Thank you.’
David had arranged for someone to give them a lift to Tiberias, and they caught a very early morning bus to Haifa in the cool darkness. Edie loved the feel of the summer nights here, the aromatic smells of the plants, the scraping sounds of crickets when they went to bed and the dark, silky air. Now, before sunrise, it was quieter, warm and tranquil, with a sense of expectation. As they travelled, the sun rose behind the bus. Gila fell asleep against David’s shoulder almost before they had started moving, and Edie dozed for a time too, until woken with a jolt as they stopped at Nazareth, to see the sun, dazzling now, gradually turning the bare earth from grey to white. She looked at David and Gila in the seat in front, the protective way he had his arm round her, her hair very black against his white shirt. She had heard Gila call him ‘Doodi’ affectionately, marrying his names, David and Rudi. Yes, she thought, with a pang at her own loss of him. They were young, but there was something real between them all right.
Anatoli saw her examining the two of them.
‘They’re lovely,’ he whispered.
Edie felt a glow of pleasure. ‘Yes, they are, aren’t they?’
They were in Haifa before eight in the morning, and stopped to enjoy a big breakfast together in a café from which they could see the sea. They ate warm, fresh bread, cheese and houmous, tomatoes, cucumbers and yoghurt. Gila began to look a lot better after she had had a good meal.
Anatoli questioned the two of them gently about their plans for the future, David translating for Gila. Edie was grateful to Anatoli. She watched him, his broad, friendly face already tanned, eyes expressive with sympathy, fatherly towards Gila. Edie could see that Gila liked him and was more relaxed now. She told Anatoli that she had wanted to be a dentist ever since she was a little girl and had had an aching tooth removed on the kibbutz. She had been impressed that the dentist could make her feel so much better and she thought it was a good job. A useful job. Work and usefulness were vital to kibbutz life. She smiled as she talked, her real prettiness coming out now.
‘I suppose,’ she said wistfully, ‘I can go to do my studies now. I am free again. But I am very sad.’
They all got to know each other better over breakfast, through their halting, translated conversation. Gila said that now she was getting better they were invited to her mother’s home to meet her properly. They had so far only had a brief introduct
ion to Mrs Weissman.
When they emerged from the café it was much hotter outside, the sun moving up the sky, turning the water of the bay a rich blue, hazier in the distance where it met the sky.
‘Shalom – welcome, welcome!’
The first thing Edie noticed about Annaliese was how tiny she was, standing at her door in her little black mules, slightly stooped, wearing a flower print dress. She spoke in halting English when they arrived, beckoning them all inside. Edie immediately felt at ease with her, and admired her for her cheerful demeanour. David had told her what a hard life Annaliese had caring for Hermann, how fragile, how unwell he often was, physically and mentally. Edie wondered how he would cope with their visit, but she felt Anatoli was the one who would know how to manage it. It was he whom Hermann most wanted to see.
They all stood in the little hall. Annaliese switched into Hebrew as she greeted David and Gila, kissing both of them affectionately, holding on to Gila’s hand as she talked. She spoke in concerned tones to Gila, giving her stomach a fleeting caress. Though Edie could not understand Annaliese’s words, she could easily make sense of her expressions of sorrow over the miscarriage. She stroked Gila’s cheek and Edie guessed she was saying that she looked pale and why had she made the journey today?
Then she turned to Anatoli to greet him properly after their brief social handshake. Seeing her looking at him intensely, he gave a slight bow, and said something in German. Annaliese clasped his hand and let out a passionate burst of speech.
‘You and David’ll have to tell me what everyone’s saying,’ Edie murmured to Anatoli as they followed Annaliese into the sitting-room. ‘Or I’m not going to make head or tail of today!’
The living-room was furnished with crimson velvet chairs, a small settee and a great many bookshelves. Annaliese announced that she would make coffee.
As they waited, Edie looked round at all the books on the shelves facing her, most of which had titles in German on their faded spines. David was speaking softly to Gila. After a short time there came the sound of a door opening across the landing and Edie saw David’s gaze flicker towards the hall. A moment later they heard Annaliese calling urgently, ‘Hermann? Hermann!’ But he had already shuffled across the landing and was standing looking into the room.
